Eight Days a Week
by larrythestapler
Summary: Draco sacrifices his ego, even to the point where he picks up feces, for Hermione's hand in marriage. Will she say yes for Draco's love, or his hardcore rock and sexy literature skills? Fin.
1. The Ring

**Eight Days a Week**

**Chapter 1: Epiphany Toilet—With a Little Magic**

_Larrythestapler_

A/N: Just a series of mini-plots leading to Draco and Hermione's wedding :) I got some of the ideas from _Scrubs_, because Carla and Turk got married on the finale of the third season, and they played this song (the title). Mostly fluff.

EDIT: Sorry, I felt so anal that I had to re-upload the story xD Hermione's eyes are brown, not blue. Sorry for any inaccuracies to the story! Thank you observant readers!

Disclaimer: I do not own "Eight Days a Week." The Beatles do! I also do not own Harry Potter! And ABC owns Scrubs!

* * *

_Crack._

The sound resonated in his head over and over again, and with a cringe, he fell into a medium between rage and inconsolable despair.

"Did you just _EAT_ the ring?" Draco asked the ogre-like Slytherin. Crabbe nodded stupidly and Draco let out a sigh of pain. "CRABBE. C_RABBE. ARE YOU A BLOODY IDIOT?"_

He jumped through hoops to acquire the ring, the beautiful, precious Swasoriski ring. The good, the bad, the horrors; all he had faced, for _her._ Draco remembered the glitter of the bright jewel on the white band of the ring; its glitter only inferior to Hermione's dreamy deep chocolate eyes. The temperamental male spewed harsh words at his best friend, as he came to the realization that Crabbe ate the basket of muffins on the table. Within one of the muffins, Draco placed the engagement ring, in hopes of a denotable proposal.

Forget the engagement. He was screwed. He eyed the half-eatened bran muffin sadly, but regrouped himself and directed all his hate at Crabbe.

"Why do you show me NOTHING BUT HATE WHEN I SHOW YOU NOTHING BUT LOVE? DID YOU KNOW WHAT I HAD TO DO TO GET THAT RING????" Draco growled, strangling Crabbe's neck. The inferior Slytherin whimpered as the frustrated blonde stood angrily. "You are going to pay deeply." Draco held up a knife and the fat figure in front of him sobbed, hoping for redemption.

An oblivious Hermione entered the small dorm, and Draco lowered the knife, falsely cooling his temperature in accord. He softened, as he noticed the way her golden locks fell on her perfect shoulders. Her brown eyes greeted him kindly, and a feeling of relaxation overcame him.

"Crabbe. Dray. Professor Dumbledore wants to talk to you about something. He's in the common rooms waiting for you."

"Er, I'll be right down," Draco said, feigning a smile. "Love you."

"I'm sure you do." Hermione smiled, reacting to the quick peck on the lips he gave her.

"Dammit, we're getting that thing out of you! I can't afford another freaking ring." Draco whispered as Hermione left the room.

* * *

Draco moped in melancholia, as his bottom touched the cool seat of the golden toilet. Draco loved her, but he could not afford the pricey cost. He was rich, but wealth could not reacquire the Swasoriski ring for her. No; its cost was too high. Draco had searched for what wizards could never dream of finding. In the pureness of his heart, Draco found the courage to obtain the golden ring, only to have it eaten by his EX-best friend.

_Disappointment overcame his mind, as the dreamy Head Boy painted the hypothetical look on Hermione's perfect cherubic face. The ring was irreplaceable, and at most he could only retrieve a cheap replacement ring. Tears would well up in her deep brown eyes feeling the coolness of the cheap ring taint her skin. Hypothetically, she frowned upon the disappointing commoner ring he gave her, and a slap of scarlet rejection burned him beforehand. _

He rested his elbow on his knee, and an epiphany came to him. A flash of golden light sparkled from the toilet, as it opened the blond's head. _That's it!_

**_Plan A:: The Muffins_**

The eyes of the house elves bulged in horror as the figure approached the kitchen. One of the house-elves, Winky, saw this act of injustice. Her eyes followed the man as he stalked the exterior of the kitchen for old food. She approached it.

"What are you doing, evildoer?" she squeaked. Her eyes shone with defiance as the slick-hair man hid a stash of food in his sack. An irritated Draco Malfoy snapped:

"Shut up, pip squeak. No one shall know." Draco snarled. He made a gesture of intimidation as the house elves scurried off to the interiors of the kitchen.

"NO! EVILDOERRRRR! PREPARE, TO FEEL VERY FOOLISH!!!" Winky screamed as she barged into Draco. Draco, annoyed, idly whispered in a hoarse tone: "_Stupefy." _The house elf paused midway, and its brilliant chocolate eyes lit up. A sketch of shock overcame her, and Draco quietly left the crime scene.

Walking to the Slytherin dorm rooms, Draco saw Crabbe talking to the Bloody Baron and gestured him to come. Crabbe jogged slowly to Draco, and looked him in the eyes, hoping for forgiveness.

"That thing is getting out of you, dammit. I've just stolen A WHOLE DOZEN of Hogwarts ALL-FIBER muffins. Goyle went crazy with these before, so they should work on you. SEEING THAT _SOMEBODY _ATE MY ENGAGEMENT RING. I want you to eat all of this crap, like you did with the ring. That thing is coming out of you." Draco whispered, squinting his eyes.

"Kay." The pudgy sidekick complied, and ate all the muffins in the manner of minutes.

"Damn, that was fast. Now let the fiber work its magic. Hang on; I'll let you excrete in private. BUT REMEMBER TO GET THE RING." And from the restroom door, Draco heard several grunting noises, but no cigar. Crabbe walked out, a rosy look of guilt and constipation painted on his face.

"I really hate you, you know that." Draco felt tears burn behind his eyes as a gesture of failure enraptured his body. The ring was priceless, and now it lurched in the bowels of his EX-best friend. Never digesting because of his low fiber diet.

* * *

Draco groaned as a feeling in his gut troubled him. He made his way to the Prefects' restroom with a _Hot Witch!_ magazine in his hands. His body could not take it and tears fell down his cheeks as he contemplated upon the pain of the lost ring. The seat of the toilet felt heated and uncomfortable, as Draco slowly eased in to the mental and physical pain.

He leafed through the perverse magazine, raising his eyebrow here and there. He took interest to an article, titled "Accio! Love," and BAM! an idea hit him. The solution was so simple, and Draco rose to pure contentment.

"That's it. The answer is so simple!"

With confidence, the blond boy marched, his chin forward, to the dorm rooms. Crabbe sat in the corner, _reading. _

"Are you _reading_?"

"Yeah, Hot! Witch," Crabbe replied with a creepy smile. His eyes remained glued to the skimpily dressed witch on the text's cover.

"Right," the cocky blond replied succinctly. "I've got a plan, and it should work now."

"Huh?" Crabbe looked up from the magazine and saw a flash of magenta light aimed at his face and its caster glowing with confidence.

"_Accio Swasoriski ring!" _the blonde boy chanted. A sick feeling moved through Crabbe's bowels as he lurched forward in accord. A growl escaped from his stomach, and he opened his mouth to say three words.

"Oh, I need to sh—" Crabbe winced after the charm was cast.

"Remember to wash it," Draco hissed. A feeling of fulfillment overwhelmed him, as watery noises came from behind the door. He winced at the churning sounds, but took solace in the fact that all was well. A shriek of excruciating pain interrupted Draco's reverie. _Loud. Painful. Just right_. A smirk made its way to Draco Malfoy's face, illustrating the euphoric feeling of satisfaction.

Crabbe came out with a bundle in a zip-locked bag. This time, a scarlet complexion of pain was painted on his face. The pudgy accomplice had tears streaming down his face as he handed Draco the Ziploc bag full of paper napkins and toilet paper.

"This thing is getting steam-cleaned." Draco mumbled as he grabbed the bag from Crabbe. He peered inside the bag and saw a glitter of hope once more.

"Peace at last," Draco mumbled as his bottom perfectly hit the toilet.

A/N: NEXT CHAPTER—THE PROPOSAL!!!! Also, thanks to all my reviewers for "You Dropped Your Books Nerd." Ahhh, I have a writer's block now tho!


	2. Rockin' Draco

**Eight Days a Week**

_Larrythestapler_

**A/N**: Randomness, this fanfic is coming to a cute close, but I kind of bsed this chapter.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own "Eight Days a Week," Harry Potter, Axe, or the iPod brand. Come on. I'm not that great. The little song in the fanfic is from "Eight Days a Week." Which I do not own, once again.

* * *

_What to do. What to do…_Draco Malfoy finally acquired the ring from the depths of Crabbe's bowels to waters of the golden-plated toilet. Now that he had the ring where he wanted it, he had no idea what to do.

"Hermione? Dear. Would you marry me dear? Because you, dear, are the dearest dear I ever known….dear. Dammit, stop saying dear!" Draco watched the amazingly hot blonde in the bathroom mirror look back at him and he winked naughtily, though without no one to observe his self-arrogance, the whole process proved futile. He grabbed the bottle of Axe and squeezed the foamy substance in his hands. Of course he had to be perfect for Hermione-poo.

And then an obese young man approached behind Draco and interrupted his ego-boosting exercise. Draco frowned, but kept quiet.

"Hermione's here." Draco let out a groan. He couldn't propose to her tonight. Or tomorrow, unless struck by another idiosyncratic epiphany. Pulling on a pair of tight leather jeans and a green jersey, Draco ran out of the bathroom and grabbed a handful of fake flowers from his dorm room. He peeked out the small door hole and saw Hermione dressed in a sophisticated black halter dress, pumps near three inches. Her complexion was inexpressive, but he knew what his little angel had in store for him. He knew.

"Your dressed like a Christmas tree." Hermione's lips curled distastefully and Draco merely grinned stupidly, handing her a bouquet of fake sunflowers.

"You know you dig my sneakers." Hermione took the plastic flowers from Draco's grip and leaned in to smell them. Polyester. How fragrant.

"Uh, I would have preferred roses. Real ones. But your kindness is overwhelming." Hermione pointed out wryly. "You are allowed to touch my hand. I trust you."

"You kissed me six point five times the past four years," Draco claimed happily.

"You counted?"

"The half being that almost moment in the closet supply room."

"You know I was joking right?"

"Hermione, you know how I love you right?"

"I guess I do. "

"Well I need to," Draco pointed at his crotch, "you know."

"Ok, fine," she sighed. "Here's that half of a kiss." Hermione leaned towards Draco's cheeks and gave him a sharp peck, leaving his head buzzing with cartoon stars.

"Sweet." Draco latched his hand onto Hermione's freakishly soft hands and they walked to the small theater of the old, renowned school. He stared into her dark brown eyes. They were warm and sweet, like a pool of chocolate and candies. It made his heart melt, and at times he wished they were blocks of chocolate so that their heated love could melt them together as one. Sweet, but he knew Hermione had far more difficult expectations.

But at the stone witch statue, they departed. Draco walked silently to the bathroom stalls near the Great Hall. The night was warm and humid, providing the perfect ambiance for proposing to the love of his life. Yet he did not know how. Romantic dinner? They were going to a Veronica Witch concert, one of Hermione's favorite singers. Perhaps a little song? Hermione was never the artsy type. She hated his guitar class. With a definitive time limit, Draco still meandered.

He turned the pink bathroom handle and eyed himself again, but this time, a white glowing light caught his eyes. The little object was metallic green, palm-sized and extremely fragile. Blaise held the object in his palm carefully as he waited for the line of college boys to finish their business within the small stalls. Draco approached him, fascinated with the object with the delicate screen.

"What is this thing? It's so…amazing."

"This? Oh, I confiscated this from a Muggleborn freshman. I think it's called an Ip-Odd," Blaise replied with a chipper, hyper tone.

"An Ip-Odd? What does the Ip-Odd do?" Draco inquired.

"It lets you watch all these things and listen to this blasphemous music."

"Hot damn."

"Here, listen to this." Blaise put the small round object inside Draco's ear. To his surprise, it fit quite comfortably, and loud grunge music began to play in his ears.

"I think Hermione likes, what do you call them? The Beadles?"

"I don't know, but Merlin's pants, this stuff is amazing."

"Dang, this is ludicrous."

"Regard! Look at all these girls mooning over that guy with the caked face and purple eyeliner. They're obviously craving his love."

"Hmmm." Draco thought. Perhaps…perhaps this was what Hermione wanted. If she loved the music of the Beadles, she would love him. It felt right, and with curious eyes Draco observed the band's vocals person with great fondness. Leather jeans? Check. Eyeliner? He had a bottle of green sample ones, so check. Hot, charming personality? Psh, a surplus amount. Rockin' guitar skills? Somewhat. Fireworks? An added perk. "Can you help me with something, Blaise?"

* * *

Hermione raised her brow as she walked pass Ginny and Harry, both embracing one another in an odd manner. They stood there silently frozen, locked intensely for at least five minutes. Hermione could not imagine doing such a feat. For one, it was extremely embarrassing. Her dignity was ethical, but it also regarded pride. But more importantly, her squeamishness overruled everything in her life. After a summer of self-defense classes, Hermione did not stay the bookish weenie she was. No, she retaliated. She had been known not to be able to withstand warm temperatures and people breathing on her, either if done, resulting in a very violent and angry outcome.

She regarded the young couple. Harry kept his untidy raven hair, and wore a baggy, loose outfit of fishing pants and a robin blue dress shirt. Hermione raised her eyebrow when she saw Ginny's hot pink tube top, constantly pulled up every five minutes. But to her observation, a disgusting, filthy smirk danced on Harry's face as he purposely pulled the top down at a slow rate. And yet even when Hermione finished observing them, they remained in the same hugging position.

To her great surprise, flashes of red hair and cherry red lips under the moonlight fought passionately. Harry and Ginny devoured each other, giggling and caressing the other. Mascara and rouge smeared on Ginny's face as Harry kissed the stains off. She grabbed his hair and pulled it, quite frankly, painfully, as they engaged in their open display of outercourse. Hermione walked away with disgust, and Ginny ran to her.

"HOW COOL WAS THAT??" The two young ladies walked to the large amphitheatre, following groups of young college students. Hermione paused to think of an answer. Respond rudely, but honestly? Or kindly but falsely?

Hermione regarded her manners, however, and coolly replied, "I'm not a big fan of vehemently expressed sentiments." She gave Ginny one of her prized cupcake smiles, and entered the dimly lighted theater. A singly, shadowy figure climbed onto the stage and turned his back to the audience. Murmurs and light sounds filled the room, but quietness overcame the room when the lights turned off completely. "Geez, where the hell is Draco? I told him to try that new bran diet."

Little did she know, her entrance provided that smirk on Draco's face, and set off the giddy dominoes of Draco's emotions.

And everything became a catastrophe from that moment on.

* * *

Green eyeliner. On Draco. Face paint…on Draco.

Amplified electric guitars.

"_Ooh I need your love babe,  
Guess you know it's true.  
Hope you need my love babe,  
Just like I need you.  
Hold me, love me, hold me, love me.  
Ain't got nothin' but love babe,  
Eight days a week._

_HERMIONE JANE GRANGER. WILL YOU MARRY ME, YOUR HUMBLEST KNAVE OF OUR STELLAR LOVE?"_

"Oh my God." Hermione's face failed to contort into anger, embarrassment, or happiness but left a glued expression of awe. Her mouth formed a little "o" as her ear suffered from a horrible combination of a screeching male voice and awful guitar skills. Complementing the awfulness, a bursting smell of firework smoke entered her nostrils, leading to multiple sneezes and wheezes. A bubbling feeling of embarrassment and insatiable anger reached Hermione's veins and her mouth slightly twitched.

"HERMIONE. GRANGER. WILL YOU. MARRY ME. YOU KNOW, YOU WANT ALL OF THIS HOT STUFF!!" In separated phrases, Draco managed to complete his thought and convey it to Hermione. After the grand finale of striking a last note, Draco pulled off his shades to exemplify coolness, and added an additional phrase, "SCREAM IN THE NAME OF LOVE PEOPLE!"

A roaring crowd did, indeed, scream. Hermione tried to hide her face with a hand and headed back to the dormitories in embarrassment.

Climbing to the enchanted P.A. system in the girl's dormitories, she flatly replied, "No."

A series of boos and awws followed as Draco sat subdued on the theater's empty stage. Sounds of amplified guitars and flashy lights were replaced by the familiar sounds of sniffles and rejection.

_To be continued…_


	3. Draco Goes Shakespeare

_Eight Days a Week: _Draco Goes Shakespeare

**A/N**: The author has a cold –cough— & Sorry if I used Shakespearean language inaccurately. I forgot the possessive and reflexive blah blah blahs for "thee, thy, etc."

**Disclaimer**: This chapter may be strikingly familiar. Yep, it's inspired by the balcony scene from Romeo and Juliet, all credits to Sir William Shakespeare. Let's give him, and J.K. Rowling a hand.

* * *

A great man once said, "If you fail, try, try again." Draco took this to heart and pushed down his feelings of rejection. No more weenie Draco. He was going to be confidence in security until he got Hermione by the hand, the lips, wherever. He had not talked to Hermione ever since the incident; he sensed anger. And this felt like the last time he could ever redeem himself. That man surely wanted to hurt Draco Malfoy.

He did, after all, come up with a plan B. That's right, even after failure, he was going to get that pretty girl, no matter what. He was going to impress her, stooping to the lowest level ever. Not a fracas. Not another stinkin' guitar concert. Time to whup Hermione's heart Shakespeare-style. But this time, minus the tights.

Draco stood under the brilliant moonlight. It struck his blond hair white, as the wind waltzed around the Whomping Willow, the object of his plan to get closer to Hermione's vicinity. He glanced up and saw the stellar sky, though none could compare to the stars in Hermione's eyes. He watched the fair young girl contemplate about _who-knows-what_.

"Damn, Hermione's skin is so soft. She must use some great skin product. What is that flashing scarlet light? Oh, it's just a spell. BUT IT'S ALSO MY LOVEY-WOVEY'S AWESOME FACEY. Should I propose once more? It failed the first time, and it would be pretty embarrassing if that happened again. Oh, it is love. Not infatuation, but the sincere, innocent lust spawned from our love. Still, it is my muse. It is my love. It is Hermione Jane Granger." A fop he was, Draco put his fair hand to his forehead and searched for any signs of zits. Nope, but he let out a lovelorn sigh.

"If I could only have Jul—Hermione for my own. If only I could once more rekindle the flame of our love. Her tresses are fairer than that of mighty Calypso's. Those warm eyes are ever so bright and fair, yet ever so dark and mysterious, mysterious as the dark side of Artemis' curse. And, lo! That fair vestal that is her body, the chaste wonders of its object! If I can only be the one to satisfy it. I am but a knave, going through the labyrinth to Hermione's heart. I would rather be that foul creature on the wall, watching over sweet Hermione, than ever be departed with her. Can she even hear me…?"

"Hey kid, keep the sexual innuendo down. There are kids here for Arthur's sake," a grouchy old man yelled. A queue of children followed him as they observed the shift in position of Jupiter's moon. If only he could understand what Draco saw when he saw Hermione. He saw the daughter of Helen, the one who launch'd a thousand ships; he saw the beauty that overruled that of Venus, goddess and planet of beauty. If only he could take that, and suck on his Jupiter moons.

"Ay me. My boyfriend is an idiot!" Hermione folded her arms on the stone balcony and let her long brown curls loose, her body meagerly dressed with only a white sleeping robe. She rested her head against the gray wall and took a long, tired sigh, her heart aching fiercely, yet completely unaware of her young destined love.

"She speaks! 'Tis not a mishap at all." A kindling flame of hope flashed in Draco's bosom, and he knew that hope could become real at last. His cold blue eyes melted into watery puddles and he clutched his palms together into an imploring gesture.

"Oh, if only her love speaks back once more, it shall be the impetus to the spark of our love of long years. I do not want a subterfuge. I want the truth, and only the truth from Hermione's lord of the bosom. Her voice is as requisite as her kiss."

"Draco, idiotic Draco. Why can't thee just forget thou obscenity and arrogance and just love humble me? Is it too much to ask? Thou hath been kind, but my fingers awfully itch once more. I desire someone who can be confident around me without snazzy and bops. If only thou can honestly truly love me, can I allow my hand in marriage for thee." As she preached, Draco climbed up the monstrous Whomping Willow, disregarding all danger. The wind whistled as the moon gallantly sailed her face across the sea of the sapphire sky. Draco Malfoy, with all valiance and difficulty. It was rather oblivious, if not thick, or Hermione to not comprehend the noise level and struggles of Draco's efforts. Gashes and wound formed on his pale, girly fingers, but he kept mum of pain winces. Hermione merely stared into the distance.

"Hello, my princess," Draco slyly whispered into Hermione's ear. Startled, she jumped in alert and retaliated.

"Who the hell is stalking me? I TOOK A SELF DEFENSE CLASS." Hermione turned around to face Draco's Leonardo DiCaprio look-a-like face. A familiar face, and her face melted into disappointment.

"Oh, it's you."

"Yeah, it's me…" Draco softly pet her hair. Feeling uncomfortable, she pushed him away. "How may I regain the key to your heart once more? I have slain a thousand dragons and suffered the wraths of burning hell, yet I cannot seem to pass a bridge to your heart. Mary! 'Tis a broom." Draco got a hold of the small enchanted broom and gently took a seat.

"Draco, thou art fair. But thou dost not understand Hermione at all. I only wish for my prince to understand me, and feel confident around me without any necessity for foolish, embarrassing displays."

"How can I prove my love? I am but Helen's offspring's most humblest knave. I do not wish to flaunt. But I do wish for thy love. Thy beautiful form is something even I cannot acquire; it holds the two brightest, warmest stars in the indigo sky. It holds the fairest locks of them all, and an irresistible smile that cannot be duplicated. Thou art the owner of two fair lips, more crimson than the blood of assaulted cherries. Hermione has the hands of a goddess, hairless and perfected, if only I can be a glove and be blessed by its purity. Thy legs are slim and lovely, as they stride and dance under the moon with the servant of love. Shall we dance?"

Hermione blushed. "Oh my, my. Aren't you Romeo today?"

"Only if you so desire, princess." With a small enchantment, rose petals and sparkles surrounded them as the night sang a bittersweet song. Hermione took a hold of his hand.

"So what do you say princess? Will you take my hand in marriage?" Draco whispered into her ear. A kiss became imminent at the moment, though Draco did not expect to hear the following words flowing from Hermione's mouth. The blond knelt down and opened the small box containing the brilliant ring.

"I do not know. Your proposal was brilliant. I never felt so loved in my life. I love you, I really do, but I cannot decide at the moment. I mean, I have always dreamt that someone would one day ask me. But to you I don't know what to say now." Hermione turned around. Draco's heart sank, but it seemed to drag him off the broom as well. Flowers and glitter stopped dancing, and Draco Malfoy fell to a very slow and painful injury.

_Crash. _A flash of blood and sounds of cracks and bumps became clear through the night, as the bard fell to a horrible stop.

But everything did become clear. He knew he was totally and irrevocably in love with the woman.


	4. Love Me

_**Eight Days a Week—larrythestapler**_

**Chapter 4: Love Me—FINISH.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter! I am so excited to watch the movie, though!  
**

_Knock. Knock._

"May I come in?" Hermione asked meekly. Draco rose from his slumber, feeling every aching bone in his body after an attempt to entice Hermione with his sexy literature skills.

"I brought you hydrangeas."

"Hydrangeas? I hate those. They're all wrinkly and weird looking," Draco wrinkled his nose.

"You're—you know what, never mind."

"No, just talk to me. Hermione, I'm tired, every bone in my body is broken, and I'm pretty sure I've just soiled myself because SOMEBODY haven't changed my bedpan yet. Can we just have a real conversation?" Draco cleared his throat loudly, insinuating a volatile nurse to change his bedpan. She glanced, and merely continued shuffling her papers.

"This is our problem. You don't get me. Every time I'm ready for a real conversation you force me into these silly antics. But now, I don't know what to say. Perfect timing." Hermione let out a long sigh as she wrinkled her forehead. She watched the ticking of the perfectly round, bolded clock above her just tick away. Life was difficult, and time lacked kindness. All the minutes and decades in her life were dependent on her reaction to his ultimatum.

"No argument there."

"It's just that I've been waiting for that question like what, a billion years now? But I don't know how to reply. You're a tool. You're absolutely ridiculous. But I don't know how I feel about you right now. I don't know if I love you or hate you or what. It's a great change, and I don't know if I can trust you enough."

"But Hermione, that's what life is about," Draco protested, "If you're going to skate on thin ice, you might as well dance. Life is scary, every day, and you better get used to it or it will eat at you and haunt you. And knowing you, trying to acquire your attention, if I learned one thing, it's that nothing is perfect. Sometimes things don't go the way I plan them to be when I'm with you, but I still end up really liking you. No one is perfect. People make mistakes. Musicians, inspiring, bright ones, all the time. But that doesn't stop their melodies from being beautiful or poignant, not unlike you."

":Fine, you know what, I may not be the perfect guy. And I never will be. Woman, I'm soiling myself right now. And I am marginally attractive, hell I'm a babe magnet. But if I had the choice of having everything in the world to enjoying crappy take-out food and spending some time with you, I'd choose you every time. When I think about it, I'll end up with you, every damn time. And I know sometimes we have problems. But we can work it out somehow like real adults. I'm crazy about you, Hermione Granger. I don't know about you, but when I see you, I see my whole life, with you, the screaming midgets, growing wrinkly like those damn flowers, the whole shebang."

"I need time to think Draco. It's been what, two weeks? Two weeks is not enough to make a decision. Don't get me wrong. I enjoy spending time with you. But I'm not sure if it's right. I can't make a decision quickly off of your impatience. It's not great."

"But no one is perfect. And you have to take this chance. You know you do. I know that I'll never be as smart as you, buff as Potter, whatever. I just want you to know that you're the one I want to spend the rest of my life with, no matter what crap we go through. I love you. And I know that isn't enough to keep a relationship going, but it holds everything together. "

"Wow, that was deep." Hermione's eyes meandered to the open window. Traffic continued as usual, but the sun gave a securing sense of hope as it contrasted the robin sky with a shade of brightness. Hope, perhaps, gave her the consideration, and perhaps curse of Draco Malfoy.

"I was always deep. Don't go Hermione, stay."

"Okay." And just like that, they talked. A boy, a girl, a bedroom with medical supplies. They talked about the future, and not because they were forced to or because there was nothing to do, but rather because they were afraid of it, and needed to talk to it in the face.

"So Hermione Granger, are you ready to become the only Mrs. Draco Malfoy?"

"Too soon. I'll tell you when I'm ready." Hermione gave him a kind smile. Prospect was getting brighter, but being an anal Libra, she needed time to think, perhaps to do some soul searching.

"Mr. Malfoy, here is your bedpan—" A short, wry nurse walked in clicking on a pen as she tapped it on a silver bedpan. As if by an incredibly annoying speech impediment, she clicked her tongue a few times to complete the pulse of the beat.

"Oh perfect timing Clarissa." Draco groaned, as he stood up to change. Hermione picked up her coat and items, and made her way to the door quietly.

"I should go. It was really nice talking to you. We should do this a lot more." Hermione made a small farewell gesture and opened the door.

"No, Hermione, wait—" But it was too late. The door closed shut and a feeling of rejection and cumbersomeness passed through the silence, mocking it continuously.

"Oh, Potter, why are YOU here? You love me more than my girlfriend, quote, do. Aw jeez."

Harry danced to the small seat next to Draco's bedside and laughed. Draco roared.

"So you guys have relationship problems. Chill out, you're only humans. Take a breath, a chance. Try to feel and understand rather than consume robotically. Try taking a step in her shoes. See how she feels right now with you pressuring her."

"Well, she ain't letting me do that."

"Like, oh, my God," Harry mocked in a girlish tone. "Don't think that you're the first people to have relationship troubles. Things that are really worth having? They don't come that easily. Sometimes, when the time is right, you have to be the person to speak up, go after her, and do something about it. It's life, and it's scary, but you have to get used to it, or it'll haunt you forever." Harry clicked his tongue as he gazed into Draco's murky eyes. Draco did not expect this from Harry Potter. Harry Potter was egoistic, proud, and lacked sentimentality. And yet during crunch time, he passed, every time.

"Ahhhh."

"HA, your stumped. Good luck buddy. With the girl and the broken bones. I'm gonna get me some hospital slushies. B-R-B."

So days passed from that. And instead of his girlfriend, a brilliant green-eyed wizard greeted him every morning. Draco's heart grew numb, dejected, until a miraculous vibration came from his table side.

"Answer it woman," Harry said, as he drank down his slushy. "BRAIN FREEZEEEEEEE. OH GOD. OH HELL NO."

"Wait for it. Let it build."

"Pick it up."

"Let her want it."

"Pick it up."

"No."

"Pick it up."

"Yes m'am." Draco's slender fingers wrapped the vibrating phone. And as if Nina Simone was singing to him on the phone, a sweet beautiful voice that had not spoken to him in days answered lowly.

"Hello?"

"Yes?"

"I'm at the park. Ask me again," Hermione croaked through the line. A long beep followed. Draco leaped from his bed, an ignoring the excruciating stab of pain rushing through his body, he leaped into his wheelchair and rolled out of his room. Harry walked behind him, chuckling. Clarissa, however, was not pleased.

"Mr. Malfoy, you cannot leave! Get back this instant!"

"SO LONG SUCKER. YOU GAVE ME A WHEELCHAIR, AND I AIN'T AFRAID TO USE IT." With a rude finger gesture, Draco rolled himself out of the hospital at a ridiculously slow pace. But it was worth it, because Hermione was going to give him the right answer this time. Unfortunately, a broad gray wall stopped him in his tracks.

"Crap, a little help here Potter?" Draco winced at the pain of a sudden stop, and turned to see Harry's bright face.

"All right. I got yo back."

"Then, let her rip."

"The wheel's broken."

"CARRY ME THEN DAMMIT. DON'T JUST STAND THERE."

And with Harry's ridiculously strong back and legs, Draco made it to the park. Evening was setting, and after a ridiculous forty-five minute power walk, Harry made it to the park with Draco's body in his manly hands.

"Women, huh?"

"Yeah, tell me about it, you need to go on a diet tubby."

Draco ignored the comment and perused the park to find the brunette, nerd, love of his life. Evening set in and the fall sky was becoming a hazy orange. He pulled the ring out of his purse, for he was still dressed in a hospital gown and lacked pockets. The ring he had acquired for true love. It felt right at the moment to be looking at the ring, as he saw children and love and an older Hermione. He found the young woman sitting on a red bench, mumbling to herself as she cleaned her fingernails. At his presence, she looked up.

"Draco," she said flatly.

"Hermione."

"So, let's do this."

"Yep. We have lots of time."

"Hermione Granger, will you marry me?" Draco kneeled, wincing, and opened the box.

"Not right yet." Hermione's mouth curled as she sat smugly on the red bench. She waved the box away.

"Hermione…Jane…Granger, um, will you, um marry me?"

"What do you have, a speech impediment?" Hermione snapped.

"I can't help it."

"Get it right." Thus, they continued. Little birds in the air mocked Draco's pleas by singing sweetly to Hermione, and Harry's smug audience smile did not help. But he persisted, but to no avail.

And after numerous tries and a billion variations, Draco grew tired. But his heart told him, one last time, one last time. In his heart, he felt tired and bored asking her. But he remembered, things worth having, never came that easily. Deep inside his heart, he knew it was right. Draco looked at Harry one last time with a jittering glance of anxiety, and faced Hermione with all his confidence. For her, he would do anything. And now was the time to suck it up, ignore all his low self esteem, and ask the question of their lifetime.

"Hermione, will you marry me?"

"Sure."

So there they were. A boy, a girl, and Harry all under the fading sunset and a bizarre will to love.

FIN.

A/N: Eh, I kind of ended it on a sloppy note, but at least it's not on hiatus anymore. Review please!


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